


Dying

by MonochromeSunset



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonochromeSunset/pseuds/MonochromeSunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brain child of 2 am. It gets deep, considering the time. It fills me with a sense of dread and hope at the same time, which I can't describe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying

There is that one burning desire we all as humans feel. What does it feel like to be dead? What does dying feel like?

He wanted to know more than anyone else. He hated living. He hated pain. He hated sorrow. He hated regret. And all his life he was flooded with such things. 

Small things made him happy. It made him happy when he walked outside late at night. The night had a very calming effect on him. He felt like he could think. He loved sitting on his roof. He loved petting cats. He loved makeup. Any kind. It always made him happy. He loved it when someone talks to him. He was rather lonely and always longed for someone to return the affection he openly gave away. But if he got a text from one of his friends, his heart warms up. He feels like he's important. But then weeks, months, even, when people don't speak or send him a word. He hates feeling alone, but likes being alone. 

And now he's sitting in his bed, regretting everything he's ever done. He always knows that these phases will pass. He even had a pretty good day. He found a copy of what people have said "it is the best game I've ever played" for five dollars. He didn't get yelled at. His hair felt nice. He liked what he was wearing today. 

But he felt unimportant. He felt invisible. He tried to talk, sing, scream or just try to communicate, but he'd get shot down. He couldn't talk. He couldn't share a story. He couldn't lean on someone and ask them about their day. He couldn't hold hands with someone and tell them they looked lovely. No, that would be too much to ask. 

He felt as though no matter what he did, or tried to do at that was meaningless. What was the point of living? The aching pain in his chest made it all worse. His body was numb. His limbs were heavy and so were his eyelids. He wanted to look outside and see the stars. He longed to find someone or something out there. Someone. Anyone. He just wanted to know that someone cared about him


End file.
